


Rosie Gets in a Stew

by EdwardHyde10



Category: Sidneyverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdwardHyde10/pseuds/EdwardHyde10
Kudos: 1





	Rosie Gets in a Stew

Rosie gets in a stew  
By  
Edward Hyde

“Are you going to have some of me?” Rosie asked for at least the eighth time, bouncing with excitement in the back of her parent’s car. She has wanted to come naked and ready to cook but her mum had insisted she at least be decent in case they had to stop for petrol along the way or got pulled over, not to mention avoiding funny looks from other drivers and pedestrians along the way. The eight year old had compromised by agreeing to wear a bikini – the one she had got on holiday when the family’s luggage got misdirected. It was lemon yellow with skimpy bottoms and a top designed to look like two fishes swimming towards each other across her chest. Her dad had thought it was a little too daring for a girl of her age but her mum had pointed out that there had been very little else and the alternative was skinny-dipping! Even so, once the family had finally been reunited with their belongings, Rosie’s parents had insisted she use the far more conservative swimsuit she had brought with her. Although she would have preferred not to be wearing anything at all, Rosie was quite pleased to have another chance to wear the fishy bikini, as she called it. 

“We’ll try, we promise!” Her dad chuckled, amused rather than irritated at having to answer the question for the umpteenth time – it was nice to see his young daughter so excited and enthusiastic. “But you know we sold you to be served to the public, it’s not like we can order you specifically.”

“I know,” Rosie sighed, looking out the window and hoping they were getting close, “I’d just love you to get a taste of me!”

“We know, sweetie.” Her mum smiled warmly at her over her shoulder. “And we will try, I promise! We’ve got our table booked and we’ll try to wait for you. We just don’t know exactly when they’re going to bring you out. It depends how busy they are.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rosie said again, hoping that the restaurant was going to be busy that night and full of hungry customers all in the mood for girl stew so she would not have to wait too long to start cooking. At her health check earlier in the week, the assistant who had been dealing with her explained that her body-type was best suited to the stew pot as she was quite slim and boiling was the best way to make the most of her meat. Rosie had happily agreed, feeling that the stew pot was the most fun part of the carvery anyway, for the meat-girl at least, as she would get to sit in the slowly-heating pot serving portions of her predecessors to the diners and chatting with them, all the while adding her own flavour to the mix until she passed out and got chopped up, ready for the next girl to ladle out. 

The days in between the orientation session and now had taken what felt like months to pass but the day was finally here – Rosie was on her way to Sidney’s Family Restaurant to be cooked and eaten! When her parents had first agreed that she could sign up, she had thought of putting herself on the private menu so a family or group of friends could choose to order her but she knew that could take weeks or even months before she got picked and Rosie did not think she could wait that long so had agreed to be part of the public carvery where three girls were always cooking in the public area – one on a spit, one in the oven and one, as she would be, in the stew pot! 

“Well, we’re here!” Her dad grinned, pulling up in the designated drop-off area right in front of the doors. “Good luck and hopefully I’ll see you in my bowl later!” Rosie clambered over the drivers’ seat to give her dad a quick goodbye kiss before leaping from the car and heading towards the doors with her mum following close behind, struggling to keep up with the over-excited little girl. 

The lobby of the restaurant had been very exciting and interesting on her first visit but now it felt like old news and she was eager to get down to business. Before she was half way across the floor on her way to the reception desk, Rosie’s bikini top was off and by the time her mum caught up with her at the reception desk, she was wriggling out of the bottoms, much to the amusement of the young woman at the desk.

“Table for two?” she asked teasingly. “Would you like to see a menu?”

“No!” Rosie practically shrieked. “I’m here to be cooked! I’m meat!” The naked little girl stood with her hands on her hips, proudly showing off her smooth and toned young body.

“Ah!” The receptionist nodded sagely. “That would explain the outfit!” Realising that she was joking, Rosie giggled and bunched up the bikini in her hand, ready to give it to her mum who arrived behind her moments later. 

“Rosanna Barker.” Her mum supplied the name, followed by her date of birth.

“Ah yes, I’ve got you.” The woman smiled, looking up Rosie’s details on the computer. “You’re expected and I can see you’re ready,” she chuckled, looking at the naked little girl, “so you can go straight through. Just wait through those doors,” she pointed to the same locker-room style waiting area where Rosie had undressed when she came for her orientation and assessment, “and someone will come to collect you shortly.”

“Here you go!” Rosie thrust the yellow tangle that had been her bikini into her mum’s hand and gave her a tight hug. Warmed by her little daughter’s happiness and enthusiasm, her mum leant down to give her a kiss and a playful pat on her bare behind before the naked little girl skipped happily off towards the swing-doors that led to the waiting room. 

“My husband and I have a reservation for seven o’clock?” she checked with the receptionist who confirmed the reservation on her computer. “Lovely. We’re hoping we’ll be able to see Rosie cook and get a taste of her?”

“I’ll put a note on her file.” The woman smiled. “It’s a fairly common request with carvery girls. We can’t promise but we will of course try our best.” 

“Oh, I know.” Rosie’s mum smiled. “It’s just that she’s been so excited and insistent, I promised we’d try!” 

“Trust me, I can relate!” the woman chuckled. “So we’ll see you around ten minutes to seven tonight and we’ll have a table waiting for you, close to the public cooking area if possible.”

“Lovely!” Rosie’s mum thanked the receptionist while shoving the discarded bikini into her handbag. “See you later!” 

In the waiting room, Rosie was sitting alone on one of the wooden benches, wondering if any other girls would arrive before someone came to take her through to the kitchen. She hoped they weren’t going to make her wait there until it was time to start cooking – it was not cold but the benches were hard, especially with a bare butt, and it was kinda boring. When she had come for her tests and assessment, there had been two other girls already there and another three had arrived before they were all collected and taken for processing so she had never spent any time in this room alone. 

Looking around, the room struck Rosie as a cross between a swimming pool changing room and a doctor’s waiting room, which she supposed it technically was. There was a TV in the corner turned to a channel popular with children and young teens and there were a number of magazines scattered around – slightly newer and more interesting than the ones at the doctor’s but only just! She picked one up and flicked through it idly but none of the articles caught her attention. 

In preparation for being cooked, Rosie had asked her mum to tie her shoulder-length, dark brown hair into a number of neat braids, each one finished with a different brightly-coloured band. She said and fiddled with the end of one while she waited for something to happen. 

It was a great relief to Rosie when the doors swung open and another girl came in, followed by her mum. After a brief hello to Rosie, the girl, a blonde about her own age but with a little more meat on her bones, started to undress, handing each garment to her mum as she removed it. While Rosie had arrived in nothing but the string bikini, this newcomer seemed to have dressed as if she were going to a party, in a silver dress with spaghetti straps over a pink bra and panties set, even ‘though she had no more need for a bra than Rosie did. Once she was completely nude, she kissed her mum and assured her that it was okay for her to leave. 

“Hey.” The chubby blonde smiled, sitting down next to Rosie once they were alone. “I’m Emma.”

“Rosie.” Rosie replied. “Has someone ordered you or are you going in the carvery?”

“Carvery!” Emma grinned. “I’m really excited!”

“Hey me too!” Rosie was delighted to have someone to chat to – especially someone who might understand the way she was feeling. “I’m going in the stew pot. What about you?” 

“In the over, they told me.” Emma replied, giving Rosie’s lithe body an appraising look. “They said it was the best choice for my body.”

“Yeah I can see that.” Rosie agreed. “So you’re gonna get stuffing shoved up your butt and in your pussy?”

“Yeah!” Emma laughed. “Don’t know how that’s going to feel! Probably less uncomfortable than the spit anyway!” 

“I don’t know,” Rosie chuckled, “I quite fancied the spit but I’m a bit too skinny. Happy with the stew ‘though as it means I get to chat to diners while I’m cooking!”

“That does sound kinda fun!” agreed Emma. “So if you’re going on the pot and I’m in the oven, I wonder who’s going on the spit?” 

As if on cue, the doors opened again and another girl walked in alone, a small backpack over her shoulder. She looked to be about the same age as the first two girls with long brown hair in a loose ponytail and cute freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was dressed simply in a t-shirt and shorts with a blue baseball cap and trainers. She looked as if she might have come straight from a sports session of some kind. 

“Hey!” The new arrival grinned, seeing the two naked girls sat waiting. “I guess I’m in the right place?” Her joke broke the ice and the others introduced themselves. “I’m Bobbi, with an I!” She grinned. “Looks like I’m a little over-dressed?” She quickly stripped off her t-shirt and shorts shorts. Underneath she wore a boyish under-vest and a pair of simple black underpants which she also removed in short order, shoving everything into her bag as she did so. 

“I think you forgot something!” Rosie pointed out with a giggle as Bobbi sat down next to them, apparently satisfied that she had stripped completely. 

“What? My bag?” Bobbi looked puzzled. “My mum’s coming for it later. They said they’d stick it behind reception when I got through to the kitchen. I’m going on the spit by the way!”

“That’s great!” Emma chuckled, having noticed the issue at exactly the same time that Rosie had. “But won’t those melt?” She looked pointedly at their new friend’s feet that were still clad in slightly muddy trainers and sports socks! 

“Oops!” The otherwise naked girl laughed, pulling the trainers off without bothering to untie the laces and shoving them into her bag on top of her other clothes. “Glad you spotted that, could have been embarrassing! Sorry,” she explained, “I’m kinda tired. My rounders team had a big game this afternoon and I didn’t want to let them down so I played before coming here.”

“Oh wow!” Rosie exclaimed, genuinely impressed, “That’s commitment! How did it go?” 

“We won!” Bobbi grinned proudly. “I was the star player!” She looked uneasy for a moment and sniffed briefly at her own armpit. “They do have showers here, right? The game over-ran a bit and I didn’t have time to rinse off before I came!”

“I’m pretty sure we get scrubbed pretty thoroughly before they cook us!” Rosie assured her, grinning at the thought. 

“Well that’s a relief!” Bobbi laughed good-naturedly. “For me and whoever’s gonna eat me!”

“Okay, girls!” The other set of doors, the ones that led into the kitchen, opened and a cheery looking woman in the blue polo-shirt of the kitchen staff burst in. “Great to see you’re all here! Now, who’s ready to be delicious?”

“Okay, great!” the young woman from the kitchen grinned, ticking the three girls’ names off on her clipboard. “As you can probably see, our dinner rush started just under an hour ago so we need to be ready to get you cooking in about ten to fifteen minutes.” Rosie glanced up at the clock. It said five minutes to seven so she knew her parents would be in the restaurant when she was put into the pot. She hoped they would stick around long enough to get a taste!

“First thing we need to do is get you all cleaned and scrubbed.” grinned the woman. “Now I’m sure you’re all got nicely washed up before you came,” Rosie couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Bobbi who looked a little sheepish but was still smiling, “but there’s a difference between how clean you have to be for a nice evening out and how clean you need to be for cooking!” 

The girls and their guide or supervisor or whatever she was correctly termed were stood just inside the kitchen. There was quite a hustle and bustle going on with naked girls and young woman being led around to the different prep-stations, being prepared by the chefs for the oven or spit or even, in some cases, already cooking ready for the private parties that had ordered them. There were girls as young as four or five, their chubby little bodies being cooked like roast chickens or suckling pigs, all the way up to young women of nineteen or twenty with their curvy figures and big boobs, plus every age and size of girl in between. Rosie knew that most older girls got chopped up rather than whole-cooked but there would still be parties, mostly made up of young men out for a birthday or stag night, who would order a busty young woman cooked for their dining pleasure, even if her meat would not be nearly as tasty as that of a little girl. 

In addition to all the live or recently-alive girls, there were trays of meat, some of which was still identifiable as particular body parts and some which could really have been anything. These cuts from butchered girls provided the bulk of the meat for the guests in the main dining room, if they ordered from the menu rather than opting for the carvery, of course. 

“I’m sorry there won’t be too much time to explore.” The young woman in the blue polo-shirt apologised as she led them through the kitchen towards the cleaning area, “But we really are on quite a tight schedule! Do by all means look around as we go ‘though.” she smiled. The other girls might have been a little disappointed not to get a full tour of the kitchen but this honestly suited Rosie down to the ground. She wasn’t there for a lesson on how industrial kitchens work, she was there to be cooked and was very much looking forward to getting on with it!

As they reached the cubicles that looked more or less like normal showers, two teenage girls emerged, soaking wet and giggling. They both looked to be around fourteen or fifteen years old with an appealing amount of baby-fat left and round, squishy-looking boobs with puffy nipples. 

“They’re on their way to one of our very exclusive dining rooms.” the woman explained as they were led away by a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black formal shirt. “They’ll be cooked in front of the guests. I think it’s a singer and his entourage, although that sort of thing is kept on a strictly need-to-know basis and it seems that nobody thought I needed to know! Oh well!” She chuckled. “Let’s get you three clean! Don’t want the public going hungry, do we?” The three little girls giggled happily. 

“So what do we do?” Emma, the blonde destined for the oven, asked. “Is it just like a normal showed?” 

“First, yes.” The woman smiled. “There’s non-scented soap in there. Please was yourselves thoroughly all over as you would in the shower at home. Once you’re clean I’m afraid we have to apply the salt scrub which, I’m sorry to tell you, is probably the most painful thing you’ll experience today, including being cooked. But the good news it that doesn’t last too long and is quickly followed by rubbing butter into your skin. I’ve never seen a girl not enjoy that in all the months I’ve been working here!” 

“At least I get a normal shower first!” Bobbi giggled, speaking quietly so only the other girls could hear her as they each stepped up into a different cubical. They were very like the kind of shower you might find in a hotel room or spa but with no curtain in front. Instead, they were about twice the length of a normal shower cubical, easily big enough for two adults to stand comfortably, and making the shower itself far enough from the opening that no water would splash out. 

As the water started automatically, at a surprisingly comfortable temperature, Rosie noticed what could only be restraints hanging from the ceiling and down close to the floor. They consisted of thick straps, fastened with Velcro and attached to ropes which looked as if they could be pulled further out from the wall or retracted as necessary. There was a switch on the left-hand wall marked “Lock” which presumably, when activated, would fix them into place. Rosie gave a little shudder at the thought that she would soon be bound by them while her delicate young body was roughly scrubbed all over with salt!

For now, however, the water was pleasant and the soap pumped from the dispenser on the wall felt nice and tingly against her skin. Of course she had showered that morning and again before putting on the bikini and getting in the car, not to mention her bath the night before, but Rosie understood the importance of meat being clean – she didn’t want anyone who ate her to get a tummy ache after all! 

She lathered the soap in her hands and carefully applied it all over, paying extra attention to her intimate areas and chest. After all, she was going to be eaten in less than an hour so why shouldn’t she have a little fun along the way. From the sounds she could hear through the partition walls on either side, both her fellow meat-girls had the same idea! Knowing she did not have too much time for playing as she needed to start cooking soon, however, she rinsed off then called over her shoulder that she was ready for the salt. 

She had expected that it would be applied by the young woman who had apparently been assigned to watch over them but instead she was surprised to see a young man, certainly no older than twenty five, step in in waterproof shoes but otherwise dressed like the young woman. He had a large tub in his hand which Rosie knew must contain the salt. 

“Face me and spread your legs, please.” He instructed in a business-like manner, apparently understanding that what he was about to do was invariable unpleasant for the meat-girls and therefore wanting to maintain a degree of professional distance with them. A little startled but cooperative, Rosie did as she was told and the young man crouched down to secure her wet ankles with the floor-level restraints which did, as she had suspected, pull out further from the wall as required. He moved her feet slightly to what he knew from long experience to be the correct position, a little more than shoulder width apart. 

“Thank you. Now raise your arms.” Once again Rosie did as she was told and the young man pulled the restraints down to cuff her wrists before positioning her in an X shape and flicking the switch to lock her in place. “Please try to pull against the restraints, but not too hard.” Rosie gave an exploratory tug with her right wrist. The rope no longer had any give. She tried to pull her feet closer together but they were similarly locked. “Good.” The young man said again. “Thank you. Now, I’m about to begin the salt scrub. I will make it as brief as possible but I do need to be thorough. Do you understand?” Rosie gave a rather nervous nod. “Good. Now, I’m sorry, but this is definitely going to hurt!”

Although she had been warned, Rosie was not prepared for just how painful the salt-scrub was. She knew that is was quite a normal part of spa treatments and was a great exfoliant but she assumed it must not be administered this hard or aggressively in those circumstances! Across her flat chest was the worst – as her torturer moved down her body, Rosie had to glance down to check that her nipples were still there! She had been unsure about the need for the restraints before, believing that she could stand and endure anything that she was put through on her way to the dining table and the bellies of hungry restaurant patrons but every instinct was trying to force her to break free and get away from the man who was inflicting such pain on her delicate young skin. 

Rosie was biting her lip hard to keep from screaming but, from the next cubical, she could hear that Emma was not maintaining that same level of self control. If she had thought her sensitive young nipples being scrubbed was bad, it was nothing compared to when he reached her inner thighs and vulva, even rubbing the salt between her tender young lips and onto her clit which felt as if it was on fire. She would have imagined that having a handsome young man fingering her pussy in this way should have been a pleasurable experience but this was anything but!

Once he had made it down to her toes, the young man released the restraints and held Rosie’s hand for balance as she turned around and allowed herself to be secured once again, this time facing the back wall so that he could scrub her back and bottom. Of course she had been prepared for some pain – being cooked alive was never going to be all unicorns and rainbows, but this was far more than she had anticipated. Mercifully, the young man did his work quickly and was soon helping her to rinse off the salt.

“I promise you the next bit is more fun!” He grinned at her. “We used to have different people do the salt scrub and the butter massage but they started letting us do both so we don’t feel like you die hating us!” Despite her stinging, tingling skin, Rosie could not help but smile and giggle a little. She knew he had taken no pleasure in the pain he caused her – it was simply part of the preparation process and that was, after all, what she had knowingly and very willingly agreed to. 

Carefully, still holding her hand as he knew how unsteady girls could be on their feet after the scrub-down, the young man helped Rosie out of the shower and into a fairly open part of the kitchen where he rubbed her down with a clean towel. The towel was very soft but it still stung against her red-raw skin. Emma was already standing there dry and waiting for her butter-rub, her skin pink and her cute face stained with tears but managing to smile, knowing that her suffering had all been in the service of making her delicious. As the young man who had been seeing to Rosie took the towel away and went to retrieve the butter for her massage, Bobbi emerged from her shower, looking pink and fresh and apparently genuinely happy.

“Wow!” the tom-boy grinned, “That felt great, didn’t it?” The other girls looked at the naked, dripping, raw-skinned girl with a fair degree of incredulity. “What?” she looked genuinely confused, “You didn’t think so? I’ve never felt so clean in my life! Can’t wait for this butter rub!”

Emma looked with a degree of envy at the handsome young man who was prepping Rosie, given that she herself had just received a rub-down from a woman around her mum’s age who reminded her very much of a strict teacher. Bobbi, on the other hand, didn’t seem to interested in who was giving her the actual treatments, which happened to be a kind-faced man well into his fifties who had the look of a school caretaker or someone who worked in a garage, she was simply enjoying the experience itself.

Once the girls’ scrubbed pink bodies were reasonably dried off, the soft butter ready for the rubdown was retrieved. The girls were instructed to climb up onto the metal prep tables and lay on their fronts. Bobbi mounted hers with no problem but the other two girls who were a little shorter, needed a little assistance. Just as Rosie felt the first touch of her young man’s slippery hands on her back, the young woman who had collected them from the waiting room came over and advised the workers that the girls would be needed any moment and they needed to hurry up. Hearing this sent a shiver of excitement through Rosie’s young body, enhanced, no doubt, by the feeling of the cold metal table on her sensitive nipples. It would not be much longer before she was meat in the pot!

The feeling of the warm butter being rubbed into her skin was amazing – it more than made up for the pain of the salt-scrub. The sensation, coupled with the cosy smell and warmth of the kitchen made Rosie feel like she may already be in Heaven! Once her firm buttocks and legs were rubbed, the young man signalled for her to turn over onto her back. As she did so, she propped herself up a little on her elbows and saw an apparently dead girl, around her own age and bright pink with steam rising from her delicious-looking body, being wheeled into the space beside her. The smell of the cooked meat blended ever so appetisingly with the aroma of the butter. 

“Is that who I think it is?” She asked with a grin. 

“Yup!” The young man who was now rubbing butter into the tops of her thighs confirmed with a chuckle. “She’s just come out the pot. They’re going to cut her up now and then her meat will go in the stew ready for you to serve out until you go the same way!” 

“What are they going to do with her head?” Rosie asked with interest as that of the girl next to her was removed with a cleaver and set to one side. 

“They preserve most of the heads from boiled or butchered girls,” he explained, lifting and rubbing one of her arms leaving all her weight on the other, “it’s the two prep methods that don’t damage them, not like the oven or the spit. Only way you can preserve the head of one of those girls is if you cut it off pretty early on. Some parents do ask for that.”

“My parents haven’t requested my head, as far as I know.” Rosie gave a little shrug. “I don’t think they’d have any use for it if they did! What will happen to mine?” 

“It will go into the gift shop.” The man smiled down at her. “Either as a trophy or...”

“Or what?” the young girl asked.

“Or the other thing they do with them,” the man laughed a little enigmatically, “for people who want a more practical souvenir!” Rosie just looked at him with puzzlement. 

“He means they preserve you with your mouth open so men can put their things into it if they want to!” Bobbi called over, grinning cheekily. Glancing over to reply, Rosie noticed that the tom-boy, who was currently having her undeveloped but meaty chest massaged, had the tips of her fingers inside her own pussy. Rosie has of course touched herself down there before and knew how nice it felt but had only ever done so in private. Laying out in the open with no attempt to hide it struck her as particularly brazen, although the relaxed expression on Bobbi’s face seemed to suggest she did not even realise what she was doing was taboo and the man massaging the butter into her skin was certainly saying nothing about it!

“Their things?” Rosie asked innocently. “You mean keys and coins and stu...” The truth suddenly hit her and she blushed, embarrassed by her own innocence. “Oh!” she giggled. “Those things! Well I don’t really care, I’ll be dead anyway! I hope whoever buys my head enjoys it whatever way they want to!” 

“I’m sure they will!” her prepper chuckled, “Now, lay back for me, please.” Rosie did as she was told and he began to rub the butter into her chest, over her ribs and into her belly then ventured lower. Rosie was just about to ask if it would be okay to do what she had seen Bobbi doing when she felt the man’s own buttery fingers slip inside her! The large fingers of this handsome and very experienced young man felt far better than anything she could imagine doing her herself and Rosie lay back to enjoy the last few minutes of the massage, imagining how in a fairly short time she would be on the next table over while her body was taken apart to be mixed into the stew while the girl would would take her place was being prepped. 

All too soon, however, the massage was over and all three girls were back on their feet, shiny and ready to cook, all three looking very excited and far happier than they had coming out of the shower. 

“Wow!” the woman who had come to collect them grinned, “All three of you look delicious! Let’s get you out to the cooking area. Ready to greet your public?” She led them to the big swing doors which led into the main dining room. Rosie took a deep breath, excited by the prospect of having her naked body on display to hungry diners as she walked between the tables where she would very soon be eaten.

“Sure am!” She grinned and the other two nodded in agreement. “Let’s go!”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Rosie bounced up and down, spotting her parents at a table very close to the public cooking area, dressed in very nice clothes and both sipping wine, chatting happily and laughing together clearly enjoying the date-night. “There’s my mum and dad! Can I go say hello?”

“Well we do have to go that way anyway,” the young woman chuckled, “so I guess it could be allowed! Just don’t take too long over it as we need to get you cooking pretty quickly!” As if on cue, a young man from the kitchen pushed a trolley past them on which was a large metal pot with a lid. “That will be the stew meat!” the woman informed the girls as he passed. Rosie looked at it was fascination, imagining how the finely-chopped pieces of delicious girl-meat would soon be swirling around her and how, some time after that, her own body would be cut into small chunks of meat and be added to the stew around another girl. “Does anyone else have anyone here they want to say goodbye to?”

“Nah!” Bobbi laughed, “My parents didn’t even drop me off, I had to come by bus! I bet they’re at home booking a holiday right now with the money they’re getting for me!” She did not seem at all upset by this. Rosie couldn’t help wishing they had a little longer to chat so she could find out why this girl had chosen to sign up. She seemed perfectly happy to be meat although not as excited as Rosie herself was. At least she did not seem reluctant – the idea of girls being pushed or pressured into being cooked always made Rosie feel a little sad and she wondered how she would feel to be cooked alongside a girl who would rather not be there. 

“Fair enough!” the woman chuckled. “What about you?” She turned to Emma who was looking a little sad. “Is anyone here to watch you cook?”

“No,” she chubby blonde replied, “Mummy says she’s really proud of me but it would make her too sad to actually watch.” 

“That’s not that uncommon,” the woman assured her kindly, “although often we do have families come especially to watch.” Rosie was looking around the dining hall and taking everything in. It was quite a thrill to realise that all the meat on the diners’ plates was from girls like her and her new friends. She looked over at the mermaids splashing around in their pool and thought how pretty they looked. She wondered how many of them would end up on the menu at some point and guessed it would be quite a few – she could not imagine how a girl could hang out here day after day, watching the endless parade of naked meat-girls led out, prepared, cooked and served without wanting to become one of them. Even if a girl were to sign up as a mermaid just because she liked showing off her athletic body and hated the idea of being cooked, her mind would be changed before too long! 

“Hey there!” Rosie’s dad grinned as the small party approached their table, “Looks like we’ve come on the right night! This is some of the tastiest looking meat I’ve ever seen!” Rosie practically glowed and the other two looked proud to be described this way. For her part, Emma had been totally focussed on the fact of being cooked and had not really given a whole lot of thought to what was to happen afterwards but, hearing her meat complimented reminded her that, once she was cooked, people were actually going to be eating her body and it made her happy to think that they were looking forward to it – she always enjoyed making people happy! 

Bobbi was currently the eldest of three sisters but had once been the middle child. When she was four years old, her eldest sister had been cooked at a family party. Two years later, her next sister had been very willingly sent to the butcher. Bobbie could remember distinctly how excited her big sister Danielle had been when the morning came, how the whole family had waiting in the front yard with the naked nine year old, waiting for the butcher’s van to come collect her and how happy she had looked climbing in the back. These memories, combined with the various cousins she had seen cooked or had participated in eating over the years meant that Bobbi had never really questioned the idea that she would one day be meat. She could not remember her parents ever telling her she had to or even bringing up the question with her. Whenever it had been talked about it had always been in terms of when and how, never if. To Bobbi, it was just something that happened to a girl sooner or later and she was neither especially excited about it nor in any way afraid. Always a remarkably practical-minded girl, Bobbi simply saw providing food for the diners there that night as a job she had agreed to do. Seeing the hungry way everyone, not just Rosie’s parents, were looking at her naked body gave her a great feeling of contentment. 

“Thanks!” Rosie beamed at her parents. “I would hug you but I’m kinda covered in butter!” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” her mum smiled cheekily, “you can hug us from the inside once you’re in our bellies! This is Bobbi and Emma.” she introduced the other meat-girls. “We’re all about to get cooked together!” 

“Well you’d better get on with it!” Rosie’s dad laughed. “We’re getting hungry here!” 

“You’d better get some of those other girls as an appetiser!” Rosie suggested, pointing to the carvery where two girls, both roasted golden-brown – one from the spit and the other from the oven, were being placed on the serving station beneath the hot lights that would keep their meat warm while they were carved. “It’s going to be nearly an hour before we’re ready!” 

“Good idea!” her mum chuckled. “I think if I had to wait another hour before any food, I’d start taking bites out of the table!” 

“Make sure you save room for me, though!” Rosie added in an urgent tone.

“Oh don’t worry!” laughed her dad. “We will, I promise!” 

“Come on, you three!” the young woman, smiling but with as firm tone, brought the conversation to a close. “Let’s get you cooking!”

In the cooking area, two black-shirted employees were wiping down and re-greasing the spit while a third was greasing the inside of a large roasting pan. They all looked over and smiled when the party of fresh meat-girls arrived. 

“Here you go,” the young woman smiled, “fresh meat!” She grinned while the girls giggled happily. “Okay girls,” she turned to them, “this is where I leave you but I promise you’re in good hands! Hope you enjoy cooking and I’m sure all three of you will be delicious!” 

There was already a lot of interest in the new girls from the diners who were queueing up for a slice or two from those who had just been put out to serve. Emma looked a little embarrassed by the hungry way people were eyeing up her plump young body. Bobbi seemed indifferent, her attention far more on the spit that would very soon be passing through her, with the bonus for the queueing diners that she stood with her back to them, giving as great view of her mouthwateringly meaty rump. Rosie, on the other hand, welcomed the attention, posing and twirling to show off her meat to those who would soon be enjoying it, drawing many appreciative comments and quite a few chuckles. She saw that her mum and dad had joined the queue, lining up to get some appetisers as she had suggested, and gave them a happy wave. 

“Okay! Easy one first!” the woman who had been greasing the roasting pan set it down and walked over to Rosie. “The chopped meat has been in there a few minutes but try to stir the stew with your feet while you’re in there. People enjoy when the stew girl serves them so try to do that for as long as you can but we understand how exciting it is for girls in the pot so if you need one of your hands for something else,” she winked, “that’s fine too! All just adds to the flavour!” Rosie giggled, understanding exactly what was meant this time. “Ready?” 

Rosie nodded happily and, with the hungry diners, including her parents, and her two new friends and fellow meat-girls looking on, the woman lifted her under her arms and held her over the pot. The excited girl bent her knees and lifted up her feet past the edge then stretched them out again, allowing herself to be lowered into the pot, carefully and slowly so as to not slop any of the reddish-brown strew over the side and waste any. 

“Now, have fun!” The woman instructed her with a smile. “Enjoy yourself, remember this is your time, but try to keep the customers happy too. If you feel yourself getting sleepy or in as lot of pain, try to give one of us a call as it probably means you’re about to die or at least pass out and we can get you chopped up quickly. If you can’t get our attention or feel too weak to try, please do try to rest your head over the side of the pot so we don’t have to fish around checking for hair.” 

“Okay!” Rosie grinned, reaching over and picking up the ladle which was placed on a metal stand beside the pot. She smiled up at the first man in the queue and scooped a generous helping into his waiting bowl. He thanked her and moved aside for the next person who happened to be Rosie’s mum. 

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” she asked. 

“Not as hot as I thought it might be!” her daughter observed, “I guess they turn it down between girls so we get to enjoy being in the pot for a while. Smells great ‘though, doesn’t it?” She grinned happily as she filled firs her mum’s bowl, then her dad’s. “Sorry,” she smiled apologetically at the next woman in line who had two younger children with her, “they’re about to do my friends and I’d like to watch!” 

“Oh no problem!” The woman chuckled, “The show is all part of the experience!” She, her children and everyone else in the line, not to mention those diners at close enough tables, turned to watch what was happening to Emma and Bobbi. 

Both were stood on slightly raised platforms, their hair gathered up and wrapped in tin foil to prevent burning, being coated in some kind of light brown gloop, either a baste or sauce of some kind. Both were smiling although Emma still looked a little self-conscious. Rosie wondered if it was because, while she herself was slim and Bobbi athletic, Emma was rather chubby. Had she had negative comments about her body in the past and was now struggling to accept that people might actually be liking what they saw? Rosie really hoped so – the young blonde was sure to be a really delicious roast piggy and the physical attributes required to be great meat were very different from those needed to be an actress or model. Absolutely nobody looking at Emma’s naked body was thinking she was too fat or unappealing in the slightest!

An upright frame was rolled out for Bobbi while Emma was asked to climb into the pan. While Bobbi was being strapped to the frame, arms above her head and hands the same width apart as her feet, forming a kind of X shape, Emma got onto all fours and, as instructed, faced away from the assistant, into the oven, with her round bottom up in the air. The woman then took a piping bag, like a bigger version of what Rosie had seen her mum use for decorating cakes, and slid the conical metal tip between Emma’s cheeks and deep into her anus. She then held the end of the bag with one hand while squeezing the contents into Emma with the other. From her position in the pot, which was already starting to warm up, Rosie could see that her friend looked a little uncomfortable but she was making no complaint. 

When the bag was empty, the woman gently withdrew it and pushed a small silver onion into Emma’s hole to stop any leaking out. She then wiped the nozzle and refilled the bag while Emma turned over, propped herself up on elbows and knees and presented her pussy for the same treatment. 

While this was going on, the black-shirted assistants unclipped the top of the frame to which Bobbi was strapped and eased it down so that her torso was forced forward, leaving her rump sticking out behind her and giving easy access to both holes. The top of the spit was inserted between the smooth lips of her eight year old pussy and pushed inside. Remembering what the lady who put her in the pot had said before tending to Emma, Rosie reached down with her free hand into the warm stew and began to rub herself in the way she had not been brave enough to do during her butter massage, imagining what it might feel like to have the sharp, thick metal spit pushed into where her fingers were now exploring and upwards through her body. 

Bobbi winced a little and the tip of the spit tore through her cervix and continued its unrelenting path through her body but, being such a sporty child, she was well used to injury and pain did not phase her too much. Once the spit was most of the way in, one of the assistants moved to the front to guide it out of her mouth and, slowly but steadily, it emerged. Once it was far enough through, the lower half of the frame was raised so that Bobbi was laying flat. Her wrists and ankles were secured with cuffs after a stabliser was slid into her anus then the spit, complete with impaled little meat-girl, was lifted onto the frame over the cooking element where it immediately started to turn, rotating Bobbi’s lovely body so her meat would cook evenly. 

At the oven, the woman piped the second bag-load into Emma’s pussy, filling her womb until her already chubby belly bulged even further. As she had with her anus, the woman used a small onion to plug Emma’s pussy then helped the stuffed girl to get into position for cooking – on her knees with her rump in the air and her chin resting on her folded arms. She was then given a cored apple to bite down on to complete the look and slid into the oven. 

It was not lost on the watching diners that, as the oven door was closed, leaving a tantalising view of Emma’s meaty behind through the glass, Rosie climaxed in the stew, stopping herself from crying out as she might have done at home in the bath but unable to suppress a high-pitched moan which raised an affectionate chuckle from those close by. 

“Making it extra spicy, I see!” the woman next in line laughed as Rosie, blushing a little, ladled out bowlfuls for her and her two children. “Good on you! I’d try to get a couple more in before you go if I were you! Happy cooking!”

“Thanks!” Rosie giggled as the woman left and the queue continued to file past. After around fifteen minutes and two more orgasms which were not as surreptitious as she thought they were, Rosie could feel herself getting sleepy. She could not see Emma’s face but Bobbi had not blinked three or four minutes, clearly now nothing but dead meat waiting to finish cooking before being served. Rosie knew that she was dying – this was one of the signs the woman had warned her to look out for. With an apologetic smile, she passed to ladle to the next person in line, a boy of about fourteen, and asked him serve himself as she no longer had the strength. 

Allowing herself to sink up to her shoulders, resting her head on the edge of the pot, Rosie called to the woman although her voice was weak and she did not know if the woman heard her or not. She closed her eyes and waited. She had expected being cooked to hurt a lot more but it didn’t seem to be that bad. The stew around her was hot, for sure, but no worse than a hot bath. In fact it was very relaxing! She wondered if there was something in the stew itself, some herbs or something, that had a relaxing effect on the girl being cooked. She could still hear the noise of the diners happily chatting about their food and could feel every thirty seconds or so as another bowl of stew was scooped out around her. Making it extra spicy – that was what the nice lady had said, wasn’t it? Wanting to experience the sensation on last time and do her bit to make the strew as delicious as possible, Rosie reached between her legs and began to rub herself once more. This time she made no effort to stifle the cry as she reached climax but all that came out was a soft gasp – her last breath. 

Not more than a minute later, Rosie’s semi-cooked body was heaved out of the stew and rolled on a metal trolley into the kitchen where all the usable meat was cut to tiny pieces. Within ten minutes of her death, Rosie’s meat was back in the slightly-cooled strew pot with some fresh liquid and, most importantly, a fresh girl who happily began to serve her predecessor’s meat to the hungry patrons. 

Both Bobbi and Emma were ready not long after and placed on the serving counter while two new girls were prepped to take their place. True to their word, Rosie’s parents made sure they had at least two bowls each of Rosie Stew but neither could resist trying to meat of the other girls they had met so briefly on their way to be cooked, concluding that while each cooking method had its benefits, all three girls tasted absolutely delectable! 

The next morning, Rosie’s head, equipped with easily-rinsed throat-lining and glass eyes that were a very close match to her own, was put on the shelf in the gift shop with others of its kind. It was bought three days later by a rather embarrassed-looking man who said it was a gift for a friend, but who can be sure of the truth in these situations?

THE END


End file.
